Planting Our Melancholy (down, down, down)
by AlderBee
Summary: Nothing ever makes sense. One day, you wake up, struggle out of bed, wish you were someone else, and keep up a brave front so people won't prod at your sore spots. You go to school, then work at a job that you don't actually hate. You go home, alone at night, and find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time. You think you'll die. You don't.
1. Imagine Turtles

Planting Our Melancholy (down, down, down)

**Scene 1**

At the age of six, April broke her arm.

It had been a simple mistake: hanging from the monkey bars as she swung her usual circuit from one end to another. She remembered how the bars were dry and rough against her palms and pinched at her skin as she moved like the silver pendulum on her father's desk at home.

Forwards and backwards, swingin' away.

She couldn't recall letting go of the bar as she swung forward. Just the surprising emptiness under her fingers as the world spun wrong side up.

It was a full second of flying. Maybe something like joy.

Then, it was over.

The ground caught her and pinned bone between hard earth and a gravity-drunk body. April remembered the sudden burst of sharp pain as it swallowed her arm and filled her lungs.

This hurt _so much worse._

Rain-soaked bag tied over her head, April forced herself to breathe through the deep bruising along her side and the dull, radiating heat of a bruising cheekbone. Through the phantom sensation of drowning , she struggled against the thick-soled boot pinning her against the cold alley wall.

"You fucking moron, she saw your face!"

"I didn't think she was gonna reach for my head!"

"What are we gonna tell-"

"No one is sayin' shit! This stays here. WE fuckin' deal with it."

The pressure against her chest increased and April wished she could take in enough of a breath to just laugh. Her second full week in New York City and she was going to die. This was the exact opposite of her father's _good intention_ of sending her someplace safe while he worked overseas.

Just thinking about her father soured the back of her throat, and she was forced to cough as the boot slammed back down on against her sternum.

"Shut up," one of her attacker's hissed.

Pain bloomed through her chest, forcing her to cough again as she reached up with both hands to grip around his ankle. The bag seemed to leave her without any breathable air as she struggled and coughed. Dying through asphyxiation in the middle of this shitty city was not how she wanted to die.

"What are you waiting for? Get rid-"

The solid thud of flesh against flesh paralyzed April, half-expecting the hit to land on her next. Instead, the boot was suddenly yanked from her and she was surrounded by a whirlwind of curses as bodies crashed into the filth around her. She flinched as the violent displacement of air ruffled the bag, fearing that if she moved even a little to get out of the way, she was going to get hit and break _something_. Tucking in tighter, she reached up and scrabbled at the coarse rope tying the bag around her neck.

Claustrophobia and panic shrunk her lungs as her cold-numbed fingertips scratched uselessly at the bag.

Cold, clammy hands stilled her fingers. "Hey, hey, hey now. No point in hurting yourself more."

April leaned away from the abrupt heat of the body before her, coughing through the stale, thick air as she turned her nails against the hands suddenly at her throat.

Her struggles to claw and push the new stranger away seemed ineffective; her gasping breaths and shuffling shoes drowning out his stone-like silence.

April wondered at her luck, sure that this was going to be her last night alive and of course—_of course_—she would run across two gangs, or thugs, or murderer's, or rapists on a rare day that had been relatively enjoyable beforehand.

The gallows were made for the unlucky after all.

Who was going to tell her aunt? Would her dad notice that she was gone? Would New York City have grown on her if she had just lived a little longer?

April didn't know when her gasps and coughs turned into sobs: numbed hands grasping weakly at the stranger's thick wrist. She barely noticed the sounds of someone gently shushing her nearby as the bag was slowly loosened and lifted.

Immediately, cool rain mingled with the sweat, snot, and tears: matting her fringe to her forehead and cheeks. Eyes squeezed shut, she desperately concentrated on the cool, fresh air finally filling her lungs.

"Hey, is she alright?"

"You all right, dude?"

_Not murderers_, she thought. She wasn't going to die.

She was alive.

When she finally opened her eyes, she was struck still by intense green.

Green eyes, fractured with blue categorized her face, sweeping down then coming back up to return her gaze. Vastly different from the violent scrutiny of the men who had chased her here, the body kneeling before her was solid, stable, and safe.

The stranger's frown deepened, probably bothered by the fact that she wasn't moving. "You good, kid?"

Nothing makes sense.

Nothing ever makes sense.

One day, you wake up, struggle out of bed, wish you were someone else, and keep up a brave front so people won't prod at your sore spots. You go to school, then work at a job that you don't actually hate. Then you go home, alone at night, and find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time. You think you'll die.

You don't.

April's grip tightens around the wrists still in her hands. Her eyes stray just enough to take in more: green skin, bald head, wide mouth, cloth mask, kind eyes, and green green green.

Her body shakes, trying to recover from the extreme shift of danger to safety.

And, she doesn't question it. Ignores the surprise widening this stranger's eyes as she leans forward, hands sliding up and grasping as her arms wrap around the back of his neck and her face tucks into his neck. Pain radiates down her side, but she doesn't care because for the first time since her mother's death, she feels _safesafesafe._

The stranger—the alien, or some green thing—stiffens under her hold, stammering jibberish as she tucks herself in tighter. April's arm is pressed alongside the hard shell nestled onto his back and the solid plating on his chest is cold against her.

_Turtle._

"Whoa, man! Lookit' you go!"

He struggles a bit in her arms, not nearly enough to jar her away, mindful of her injuries. "Shut up, Mikey! Get her off!"

"Be careful, Raph. If you move her too much, you may further damage her injuries."

"You think I don't know that?! Just get her off of me! Leo, do something!"

A fourth voice, one she hadn't heard before came from the body kneeling beside her. He placed a large hand high on her back, immediately soothing against her muscles. "Ma'am? Are you all right? Do you need us to take you anywhere?"

April didn't want to move, so she spoke to the wall beyond the turtle—Raph—she was tucked against. "A-are you real?" Her voice was gravelly and dry, abused from the coughing she endured earlier.

One of the four moved just enough into her field of vision and offered her a tentative smile. She couldn't see much of him in the dark, but his silhouette matched the outline of a man-turtle hybrid, and April began to wonder if maybe she really was dying and her mind was playing tricks.

Maybe that's what happened to those who died alone: they imagined creatures keeping them company as they passed.

The thought pressed her tighter against her rescuer.

"We are real," one of them responded, leaning closer to her and revealing himself in the sparse lighting. An orange mask was wrapped around dark blue eyes—also kind and just a little curious—as he offered her a smile. "Just your friendly, neighborhood ninjas of the night. I'm Mikey and these three are my brothers."

Another turtle moved beside Mikey, offering her a tentative wave. "I'm Donatello. Leonardo is the one beside you, and you are kind of wrapped around Raph right now."

"Yeah," Raph grumbled, no longer struggling but still stiff in April's arms. "And, I'm a turtle, _not _a freaking teddy bear."

"Turtles . . ." April breathed as she pulled away, leaning away just far enough to get a good look at all four. "You—you are all turtles. But, how?"

"Cause we're bad ass, that's how!" Mickey grinned, tossing her a thumbs up before Donatello nudged him with his shoulder.

Leonardo shifted beside her, gaining her attention. April tried to wonder why she felt so safe in a New York alleyway at night with four obvious figments of her imagination, but it was hard to really think at all beyond the exhaustion, cold, and _relief_. She fought the urge to turn back into Raph's body and just _stop trying._

"Let us get you home," Leonardo offered, hand still a solid warmth against her back. "We'll make sure you make it there safely."

Shutting her eyes as a shiver wracked her body, April tried to stay awake. Was she really awake right now? Was this really happening?

Did turtle people exist? Just hiding in the crevices of New York City to save hapless humans?

Why the fuck wasn't she freaking out?

The turtle who insisted that he wasn't a teddy bear placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder, barely applying any pressure.

April leaned into it, hating herself for feeling the urge to just cry. And she wasn't a crier. She wasn't.

But, she was alive.

Leonardo's hand patted gently before cupping her elbow to help her up. "Let us get you home."

April breathed.

Alive.

AN: There is a distinct lack of April-centric fics on the internet, and I was so annoyed by it, I had to do SOMETHING.

Fair warning, it has been a LONG TIME, since I've seen a TMNT cartoon or movie and I did not watch the Nickelodeon remake save for YouTube videos, so there will be some artistic license involved. Don't fear, I'll try to keep the characters as _in-character_ as possible.

I grew up with the original 1987 cartoon and was always _fascinated_ by this strange, strong woman who allied herself with a bunch of turtles. There is so much opportunity to really get into the different facets of April O'Neil and explore a truly strong female character and it's a pity that so few writers take advantage of that.

This collection serves to satisfy an itch. There may or may not be a plot, but it will definitely focus on April and the brothers, and how they support, care, and love each other. There will be dark themes, angst, humor, hurt/comfort, and all those other extremes because I'm me and I like that shit.

As you read these snippets and find yourself wishing for something to happen, feel free to drop me a comment here or at my Tumblr.


	2. Tarantino

Scene 2

The rest of the week flew by in a haze.

April couldn't remember anything they covered in class or any possible conversations. But, she made it to Friday evening without any remarks on her space-cadet behavior, so she must have done all right.

The apartment was empty tonight. Her aunt only looking a little guilty before leaving for her date.

"_It's all right, sweetheart. You'll make friends soon. Maybe you need a few days to rest up after those awful kids attacked you. Sixteen year old girls have no business being out alone."_

April watched her aunt leave without comment before climbing back up to her room and curling into her small window nook. A dog-eared book at her elbow, she looked out to the concrete walls and rooftops of her city neighbors.

The sun hung low in the sky, painting everything in heavy oranges, reds, and purples. She wasn't close enough to the main road, so she could hear and see the heavy traffic and moving pedestrians, but she couldn't see them. This was the only time of day when the city looked the softest: transitioning between the rough daylight and the sharp city night. It was honestly her favorite time of day, but tonight, she couldn't really register seeing any of it.

Instead, her focus was turned inward, trying to conjure up the four very strange apparitions she had met just a few nights ago. All week, she kept imagining in the corners of her eyes: lingering just beyond the corners of her mirrors or her natural line of sight. A smear of green or glimpses of red, purple, blue, or orange.

But, turtles?

Really turtles?

And, she knew that she was handling the entire situation wrong. Normal people worried about gangs or armed strangers jumping from dark corners. Normal people probably went to school counselors or their parents to talk about what happened so that they could move on. Normal people probably struggled to go back out into the city after being jumped at night and beaten black and blue. She knew that her aunt was just waiting for the moment that April came to her, crying and talking and cleansing the entire situation from her consciousness.

But, April wasn't scared . . . at least not by any normal standard.

Sure, she had a can of mace tucked in with her ring of keys, but her nights weren't filled with the masked men that attacked her.

She wasn't afraid of them.

She was afraid of herself.

She feared that maybe she was finally reaching her breaking point, and she was making up imaginary heroes when normal people actually made friends with _real people._

But not her. Nope.

_Fucking turtles._

Groaning, April wrapped her arms around her legs and dropped her forehead on her knees, causing just a dull wave of pain down her healing side. Healthy, mentally adjusted sixteen year olds did not create imaginary people.

And, they had to be imaginary. Human turtles didn't exist.

But, if they didn't exist, and they really were just a figment of her imagination, then who really helped her that night? Even April knew that she couldn't fight off five gang members on her own.

Who helped her and took her home?

Were they just normal people in green masks? Anonymous vigilantes?

All of this thinking wasn't getting her _anywhere._

Unfolding herself, April leaned back on the windowsill and sighed. Despite all of this fear, confusion, and self-doubt, she could still glean something good and right from the whole situation.

The turtles may not have been real, but she remembered their eyes.

In sixteen years, April couldn't remember seeing honest concern and kindness in a person's eyes. Her mother maybe, before she died. But, never her father or from the hundreds of people she's met at every place she's moved to.

April was used to being a fixture. She did things on her own and stayed out of the way, and people seemed to like that about her. They expected it of her.

It kept her out of their regard.

What she saw that night, in four pairs of eyes, was true concern. Care.

Kindness for her.

Even now, sitting alone in an empty apartment, April ached to see it again. If she really did have the power to conjure up people who could look at her like that, why couldn't she just do it again?

Where _were they?_

A loud crash from below pulled her from her thoughts, jarring April as she glanced back out her window. Leaning over, she could hear the beginnings of what sounded like an alley-cat fight, a chorus of hissing and yowls floating up to her.

She stuck her head out the window, arms and shoulders hooked over the ledge as she looked down. The sun was even further down in the sky, darkening the alleyway in shadows that were hard to see through. Squinting, she stared down as she laid there. Her eyes slowly began to adjust, and while she waited to catch a glimpse of something, she relaxed in the light, cool breeze that floated up onto her cheeks.

It was rare to find any kind of breeze that didn't smell of trash or piss.

A minute shuffle, barely audible beyond the catfight below, came from right above her window. Lolling her head to the side, April looked up and stilled, her body locking in surprise.

Two familiar eyes, blue and green respectively, looked back at her, just as surprised to be caught.

The sky beyond them was a dark, inky blue-black, but she could still see their familiar, turtle shape. Their eye masks hung down, just within arm's reach and she swallowed down the urge to just reach up and . . .

"Uh . . ." the one with the orange mask grinned uncertainly. "Hey?"

A breath punched out of April's chest, half-laughter as she forced herself not to break eye contact. "Hey."

"Yeah, um, so you weren't supposed to see us-"

"Mikey!" the other hissed, nudging his companion with an elbow.

"Why?" she asked, desperate to keep them here with her.

"No comment-"

"Because we are supposed to be a secret and all that," Mikey interrupted, nudging his companion back. "But, ya know, you had already seen us, so I can't see why it would hurt."

"You freaking _moron_-" the other growled, clearly ready to just run off and ditch his talkative companion.

April immediately turned back around, trying to straighten and nearly falling back out the window before getting a solid grip on the windowsill. She had seen her visitors minutely reach out to catch her just in case, but stopped when she had settled herself. "Do—do you two want to come in?"

Both turtles paused, looking at each other as if they didn't understand the question.

"It's just, I'd really like to meet you guys. There is no one else here, so it's safe." She insisted. "And, hanging out here is probably not very comfortable for any of us."

The pause lasted just a few more seconds, before Mikey grinned and shrugged. "Sure! Why not."

April pulled herself back in her room and stepped away from the window, heart pounding in the second between waiting in an empty to room, to finding herself in the company of two very turtle-like beings standing in her bedroom.

She wanted to laugh, dance, clap her hands in glee, or _something_, but she forced herself to stay calm as her visitors looked around her room. April clutched at the hem of her t-shirt. "You guys are real."

That caught their attention, the one with the red-mask—Raph—squinting at her. "You still stuck on that, kid?"

"April," she responded. "My name is April."

"Whatever," he turned away, walking towards her half-unpacked DVD pile.

"We are totally, 100% real, dude." Mikey grinned. "I'm Michelangelo and that's Raphael. There are two more of us and we're brothers who just happen to be turtles."

April couldn't believe it. They were real. They weren't figments of her subconscious.

They weren't imaginary.

"That's—you guys are amazing," she breathed.

"We'll you're the first to think so!" Michelangelo walked towards an opened cardboard box and glanced in. "Most humans we run into are the bad guys and they are never particularly happy to see us. Even beyond the whole screaming in fear because, ya know, turtles."

"How long have you guys been doing this?" she asked. "Fighting crime in New York City?"

Michelangelo picked up a videogame case and flipped it open. "We've always been here. New York City is our home. Spent all fifteen years of our lives living under it."

"Under it? Like, in the sewers?"

"Sewers and subways. We know the city like the back of our hands!"

Raphael straightened, a DVD in hand and a deepening frown on his face. "You are talking way too much Mikey."

"Aw, calm down, Raph! She's a friend!"

"We aren't supposed to even _be here_—"

April's gaze locked on the movie in his hand. "You like Quentin Tarantino?"

He blinked at her. "What?"

She motioned at the DVD. "Tarantino is the director of that movie. _Kill Bill_ is one of his best. Have you seen it?"

Raphael clearly struggled between his surprise, disproval, and curiosity. April wanted to smile and turned towards the DVD pile. They were fifteen years old. Teenagers. If there was anything she knew about teenage boys, it was easy to keep them happy with violent movies, video games, and junk food. If she kept their interest, they wouldn't disappear.

They wouldn't leave.

"I also have the sequel if you want to borrow them?" She dug it out and held it out to him. "Do you guys have a DVD player?"

"Uh . . ." Raphael blinked at her.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Michelangelo bound up to them. "If he can borrow those, can I borrow this game? I've seen commercials for this on t.v. and I've been wanting to play it!"

April nodded. "Of course. When you guys are done, you can borrow something else, too."

The joy that lit up the turtle's face was blinding, and she couldn't help but smile as Raphael seemed resigned to his fate and tucked both DVDs in his belt.

"Sweeeeet." Michelangelo bounced on his heels. "You are the best!"

For the first time in years, April felt real joy and contentment. Years of forced moves and passing faces, and finally, _finally_ she was in a place with friends.

Well, maybe friends. It looked like she still needed to work on gaining their trust, but it was something she didn't mind working for.

Pausing in his celebration, Michelangelo cocked his head at her in curiosity. "You really aren't scared of us?"

She really wasn't. And, it scared her that it didn't bother her more than it should have. "I'm not. And, I promise. I won't tell anyone. It's still a secret, right?"

"Yeah," he smiled. "Thanks, April."

"_Thank you_," she replied, glancing at Raphael as well. "I'd probably be in a worse situation right now if you guys hadn't helped when you did."

Raphael looked away from her, heading towards the window. "Whatever. Let's get out of here."

Michelangelo tucked the videogame into his shell. "Awesome. Can we come visit you again?"

"Mikey-"

"Sure," April nodded. "My aunt works the night shift on Wednesdays and Thursdays. My window will be open."

"See ya later!" Michelangelo grinned at her, leaping out the window after his brother.

For a few moments, April stood in her bedroom, staring at the disturbed piles of games and DVDs.

They were real.

She smiled.


	3. Turtle Tank

Turtle Tank

Sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bedroom floor, April carefully twisted her torso to the left, bracing herself with both palms flat on the carpet. Hot pads were patch-worked along her side, providing a little relief as she worked on stretching out the bruised muscles.

A stapled packet of approved exercises were flipped open before her, her eyes scanning the pictures before twisting to the other side.

It had been a little over a week since her run-in in the alleyway. Ice-packs and her aunt's recommended stretching regime was bringing her well on her way back to full health. The spectacular bursts of purple and black bruising had finally faded to a light, mustard-yellow: much easier to cover and hide with clothes and makeup.

Kids at school no longer stared at her as she walked by in the hallways, back to ignoring the new kid, which was completely fine by her. Things were finally getting back to normal.

April looked up at the sound of tapping at her window, Michelangelo grinning at her from upside-down.

Well. As normal as it could be for her.

She spared an arm to wave him in before going back to finishing her stretching circuit. Michelangelo pushed open her window, unlocked as promised, and swung himself in, immediately followed by Donatello. April perked up, glad to see that she was going to spend time with another brother. Nowadays, anything that she really looked forward to was a few hours at the auto shop after school and these moments: secret opportunities to learn more about the turtles.

She had a pretty good grasp of Michelangelo's personality. He was obnoxiously endearing, a never-ending fountain of child-like curiosity and optimism. Out of the four brothers, he shined the brightest, quick with a joke or demands for food, but seriously dedicated to his brothers. It still surprised her to know that he was actually the second oldest.

Raphael . . . Raphael was surprisingly easy to read. She saw boys like him at school: tough guys who insisted on acting older and cooler than they really were. But, there were differences, too: differences that mattered. Even now, days after the incident, April could remember how he had grudgingly allowed her to hug him. His eyes were the first ones she saw, and the kindness had been so clear and disarming. Yes, he was a badass. But he had a heart that shone through all of his posturing.

And now, she was going to see what made another brother so different. He smiled at her, dropping to a crouch within arm's length of her as he glanced at the packet of creased pages. Donatello's eyes tracked back to her face. "Hey, April."

She smiled as she straightened her posture. "I see that Michelangelo decided to drag you along this time."

Michelangelo groaned from behind her, already digging through her unpacked DVDs. "Dude! Master Splinter is the only one who calls me by my full name! Call me Mickey!"

Donatello grinned, rolling his eyes as he sat back and crossed his legs. "You look like you are healing up well."

"A perk to having a nurse for an aunt," April shrugged, crossing her own legs as she leaned back against her bed. "I have unlimited access to highly effective salves and a bottomless supply of cold-compresses."

"Well," his cheeks darkened just a bit. "I'm just glad that you are better."

Turtles could blush. Who knew?

April's chest buzzed with a kindling of warmth at his obvious embarrassment. Gathering up the packet of paper, she turned away to give him a chance to gather his composure. "What are you guys up to tonight?"

"Oh, um, well," Donatello reached back into his shell and pulled out the two DVDs Raphael had borrowed before. "We wanted to return these, and-"

"They were _amazing_," Mikey turned away from the video games, fully invested in sharing his enthusiasm. "Tarantino? King of gore and martial arts! And, Kiddo was _badass_ and she found her daughter in the end and got her revenge and it was just _so cool_. Do you have any more?"

April grinned in the face of his enthusiasm, reminded of a child with his very first GI Joe action figure. "That good, huh?"

"It was a surprisingly deep movie," Donatello added, a little calmer but no less enthusiastic for the films. "It really focused on the grey area between good and evil that lots of the older martial-arts films don't really cover."

"Like Bruce Lee films?"

"Him, yes. And, classics like Drunken Master, The 36th Chamber of Shaolin, and Fist of Fury. Chia-Hui Liu is one of our most favorite martial artists."

April blinked at him, curiosity tickling the base of her spine. "Wow, you guys really know your stuff."

"Master Splinter has taught us well. If we ever see a program on martial arts or find an old movie, he sits with us and explains what we see. Though," he glanced up at her ceiling in thought, stroking his chin. "I guess explain isn't really right. He explores the concepts with us. Let's us discover and debate what we see for ourselves."

"Sounds like he would make a great teacher."

"He is!" Mickey perked. "So, does this guy have any other awesome movies?"

"Well, yes, but not all of his films are martial-arts related. He's really well known for exploring human nature and kind of straddling the line of super extremes and insanity." April thought about some his other films, fully aware that she was talking to two fifteen year olds. She was all about broadening their cinematic horizons, but there was definitely a limit to what she was comfortable to exposing them to.

And this Master Splinter guy sounded serious. If she showed his kids Django, he'd probably hand her ass to her and forbid the turtles from visiting her.

He was probably a _very protective _father. Understandably.

April refocused on the two turtles as she rested on the edge of her bed. "Well, what movies do you usually get? Any favorite directors or actors? Actually, how do you guys usually get your movies?"

"Wellll," Donatello shared a look with his brother. "It's not technically stealing, but we'll usually raid abandoned or closing movie rental places."

"But the pickings are always so lame," Mickey complained, dropping his chin into his hands. "Disney rip-offs, chick-flicks, soap-opera thingy's—"

"Master Splinter loves those," Donatello added.

"—and old-school stuff like black-and-white westerns, and nothing as cool as _Kill Bill_."

"So, I'm going to assume that you guys are way behind on current films."

"At least by ten or twenty years, yes."

"Yeah, that needs to be fixed." April stood up and walked towards her shelf. "You guys can keep those two, I can replace them no problem. But, there is so much more than martial arts movies out there."

"Duude. We can really keep these?"

April chose to ignore the naked disbelief in Michelangelo's voice as she thumbed through her collection, back to the turtles. "Those movies came out years ago. I can buy them for cheap." Straightening, she held out a bundle of three DVDs. "Check these three out and let me know what everyone thinks. A majority of my collection has a pretty narrow scope of independent films, musicals, and alien flicks, but I can easily run to the video store to rent what you guys need."

Michelangelo took the DVDs turning them over to look over the summaries. "Thanks, April! More movie nights!"

Donatello smiled, fiddling with the buckle of his belt. "Thank you, April. You really don't have to do this for us."

April shrugged. All of this unnecessary appreciation was getting uncomfortably heavy in her room, and she tried to brush it off. "I have ulterior motives. As the only person in my family with eclectic movie tastes, I'm trying to influence you guys with my favorite movies so that I have someone to gush over them with. Trust me, this isn't a big deal."

"But, it really is," Donatello replied, quiet enough that he probably didn't really mean to say it out loud.

April opted to pretend she didn't hear anything as she straightened her shelves and pulled her sweater tighter around her. "So, what do you guys do when you aren't out saving the world or watching reject movies?"

Mickey tucked the DVDs away in his shell and turned a contemplative smile towards her. "Training mostly. When we aren't doing that, it's video games or chores or just messing around under the city. I have this pretty rad skateboard that I take around a lot." His eyes brightened. "And cooking! I cook a lot, too, though I prefer a pizza at any time of the day!"

April just managed to keep the polite interest on her face as she tried _not_ to imagine how much of a disaster cooking in a sewer must be. "Pizza is good," she offered.

"He's actually pretty good," Donatello added, "Trust us, it's not as bad as you think it is."

Michelangelo didn't seem to take any offence as he nodded. "Yup! I mean, yeah, I'm the only one who will make an effort to _try_ to cook, but I like it so it all turns out pretty awesome. Hey, you should come down and try it out sometime! I'm sure the other guys wouldn't mind having you come down to visit."

Worries about traveling down into the sewer were superimposed with the excitement of possibly seeing more of her new friends. April had always been curious about exactly _how_ they lived. Sure, they were turtles, and yes, they called the sewers their home. But, they still acted like _normal boys_. Even now, with two of them filling their room, she couldn't catch a hint of sewer smells and they looked as clean as her. They were clearly well fed and of generally good dispositions.

Not feral. Not insane.

Honestly, they were probably better groomed than most teenaged boys in the city.

Donatello elbowed his brother, frowning. "We just have to check with Master Splinter first. As you can imagine, we don't really get that many visitors."

"You guys are secret. I remember." April nodded. "How about you, Donatello? What's your poison?"

"Just Donnie," he smiled, rubbing the back of his head and adjusting his mask. "And, I tinker. Like, a lot."

"He's a mad scientist," Mickey piped in, his attention already back to the video games.

"Hardly," Donatello blushed with a roll of his eyes. "I just like working with abandoned junk. You can't even imagine the kinds of things that people just throw away."

April didn't even have to fake her interest as she shifted closer to him. "What have you been able to work on?"

"Well, the t.v. we use back at home was something I fixed up. Same with most of our appliances and things like that. I've also fixed up and jerry-rigged computers and towers that we've been able to sell online."

Mutant turtle genius? April blinked. "Are you serious? How did you learn how to do all that?"

"Well, I had to teach most of it to myself." He grinned. "We have some pretty decent wi-fi and there are actually tons of modules to self-learn almost anything. Leo says I just have a natural affinity for technology."

"I completely agree with him."

Donatello preened a little at the praise. "I also dabble a bit with inventions, but those aren't nearly as successful. Right now, I'm working on restoring a van."

"Really? What model?" April leaned forward. When was the last time that she could talk shop with someone her age? She itched to follow them down to their home right now and take a look.

"It's a 1992 Volkswagen Microbus. The exterior is in pretty bad condition, and I'll have to either replace or completely rebuild the engine." Donnie grinned despite the daunting task. "But it is going to be a great ride when it's completely done."

April struggled to keep her jaw from dropping. "Are you kidding me? You have a freaking Kombi Type 2?! That is an amazing car! Where did you find it? Have you worked on a car before? Where are you going to get the parts? Do you need a han-"

"Whoa, whoa!" Donatello laughed, holding his hands up. "I think you are more excited about this than me!"

Noticing how close she had leaned towards the teen, April sat back and tucked her hands under her thighs. "You have no idea. Cars are pretty much the one thing I don't suck at. I work at my aunt's boyfriend's shop after school sometimes to help with oil changes and basic car maintenance. But, working on a real problem? _Restoring a classic car?_ I've always wanted to do that."

Donatello failed to hide his excitement as he leaned forward with a smile. "That's actually the best news ever because while I do know quite a bit on the basics of mechanic engineering, I don't nearly have the necessary experience to pull this of confidently. Would it be too much trouble to get you to help?"

"Are you kidding me?" Leaning over, April reached into her bedside table and pulled out a well-used leather diary, flipping it open to a clean page. "I can get a list started of some basic parts I know will need to be replaced, and even some possible parts to have on hand just in case. The next time I go to work, I'll keep an eye out for some spares. Ted won't notice if a few over-stocked items go missing."

"That would be _fantastic._"

"Wait," Michelangelo looked up. "Are we actually getting a car? Is this really happening?"

Donatello nodded, mirroring his enthusiasm. "With two teenage geniuses, it should be a piece of cake!"

April hardly thought that it would be easy by any means, but refrained from popping their bubble. She shook her head with a small smile as Mikey started bouncing around. "Dude! We are going to have a car! We have to name it! What should we name it? Oh! Oh!" He propped his fists on his waist. "How about the Cowabunga Party Van? How perfect is that?"

"The what?" April blinked.

"We are _not_ naming it that. Raph would _kill you._"

"The Mikey-mobile? The Turtle Tank? The Justice Ride?"

"Oh my god, shut up."

April coughed a laugh into her notebook.

_This was going to be fun._

[AN: Belated warning: this will be a slow-build fic. But, I promise that more action is on the horizon.

Thanks for the reviews so far ]


	4. Close Call

Close Call

April stared at Leonardo and hoped that the panic that was slowly eating away at her insides wasn't showing on her face.

She was obviously failing, because the turtle, desperately wanting to protect his family, stood awkwardly by her bedroom window, avoiding eye contact.

April was glad that she had been sitting on her floor already, not prepared for Leonardo to visit her alone and carefully—regretfully—inform her that maybe keeping in contact with her was too much of a risk for his family.

The chemistry homework spread out around her no longer meant anything, pointless in the face of the sudden and desperate need convince Leonardo to stop thinking and derail these stupid _stupid _plans to leave her alone.

Didn't he know by now that his family was important to her as well? She knew that this was all too new—too scary—to really be much of anything, but the beginnings of this friendship between them was growing into _something_. April looked forward to exploring it each day and seeing how this relationship would evolve.

How it would evolve something within her.

To have that all taken away, to be left with nothing but herself and her mind and her aunt's best intentions was terrifying.

All she could manage now, while her mind raced, was simply sit there and swallow down the dark rise of panic. "Oh."

Leonardo fidgeted, trying his best to don the heavy burden of leader and older brother. He simply wanted what was best for his family. He loved them. They were all he had.

April wanted to hate him.

They were all she had, too.

"It's just that, I know that the others have been sneaking up to visit you," he motioned towards her DVDs and games. "They come back so excited about the movies you give us, and I just . . . I just can't let them get too attached to something that could end up putting us in danger."

Leonardo's blue eyes finally connected with hers, colored with regret. "I have to think about what's best for them. It's why Master Splinter entrusted me with the role of leader."

April wanted to set her homework on fire. She wanted to break this stupid stand off and interrupt Leonardo's rational explanations.

Looking away from him, she looked down at the pan of fresh brownies she had just baked less than an hour ago. Just thinking about eating them made her want to throw up. "I—I understand. I mean, I get it. But, Leonardo," she looked back up at him. "I know you barely know me, but I promise that I would never put your family in danger. _Ever._ I haven't told anyone about you guys."

"I know," he nodded, frozen in his spot. "And, I really don't believe that you would intentionally betray us."

"There isn't anyone to betray you guys to!" She insisted. "And seriously, if I did say anything, who would believe me?"

Her shitty attempt at a light-hearted joke fell flat on it's face. "I know, April. But, we are just fifteen. Master Splinter is always reminding us that we are a bunch of kids and we can make mistakes." Leonardo held out his hands, urging her to understand. "One day, they will come to see you and they will make a mistake. What someone sees them by accident? What if one of my brothers come to see you alone and gets caught alone and they are taken away? What if they get killed?"

April watched as Leonardo's shoulders tightened with each horrifying scenario. Watching him slowly sink under the pressure of caring for his brothers, she felt her own panic start to recede.

His love was obvious. He held his responsibility to his family so tightly—so proudly—that April couldn't find herself faulting him for this.

She was an only child. It has been her and her parents . . . then her and her father. And, now, her and her aunt. She couldn't imagine what it would have been like, how different she would be now if she had gone through all of the changes with someone else: maybe an older sibling like Leonardo or younger siblings. Kids who share her eyes, face, or nose. Kids that looked up to her and expected her to keep them safe.

She couldn't imagine.

But, maybe . . .

Pushing her homework into a haphazard pile behind her, April grabbed the still warm pan of brownies and managed a smile that didn't feel sour. "I don't know what it's like. I am an only child. I've only ever had to worry about myself, so I can't imagine what it's like to have others to take care of. It must be hard."

Leonardo blinked, shoulders still tense as he shrugged. "You kind of get used to it."

"You like chocolate?"

Caught off guard at the sudden change in topic, he glanced at the pan of brownies as she moved it closer to him. She patted at the nearby carpet, inviting him to sit with her. "Oh, uh-"

"It has walnuts in it," she added. "I read somewhere that turtles need protein."

A laugh punched out of Leonardo's chest as he chuckled, moving away from the window and sitting close enough to reach into the pan. "Well, I do like walnuts."

"I also read that turtles are supposed to avoid dairy products, but I figure that's moot since you are all able to eat your weight in cheese pizza."

This time, he filled the room with real laughter, taking a bite of the brownie. "It's good. Thanks."

"No problem," she smiled, bringing her legs up and wrapping her arms around her knees. April quietly watched as he quickly demolished a brownie square, nodding when he glanced at her before reaching for another. He had relaxed a little, but not by much, and she began to wonder if he ever let himself lower his guard.

Being a leader had to be demanding.

And, to be a leader of teenaged ninjas?

"Your brothers must really admire you," she thought out loud.

Leonardo snorted, swallowing a bite of chocolate. "Depends on what you mean by admire. Mikey and Donnie usually have no problems listening to orders when we are out, but they can still get rowdy and stray a bit. Raph challenges me every chance he gets."

April grinned. "Well, that's because they aren't just ninjas."

He looked at her in question.

"They are your brothers. They are supposed to be an annoying handful." She shrugged. "At least, that's what everyone seems to tell me. Younger brothers have a divine right to cause stress."

"No kidding," he grinned. Licking at his fingers, he leaned back and crossed his arms. "I mean, I love them to death, but when we are out here, in the real world? Sometimes following orders is the only thing keeping them safe."

"That's a lot of responsibility, Leonardo."

"Yeah, well, it was given to me by Master Splinter. And, I'm happy to shoulder it."

"And he was right to do so," she insisted, smiling at the turtle as he looked up at her in confusion. "Master Splinter has faith in you. He sees something in you that your brothers don't have and he knows that you would care for them in a way that Raph, Donnie, and Mickey wouldn't be able to do if they were in your shoes."

Leonardo broke eye contact with her, glancing down at his hands.

Despite his discomfort, April pushed on, knowing that Leonardo needed to hear this. Knowing that no one had bothered telling him this because they assume it goes without saying.

And, it did. Leonardo was a great leader and everyone knew it.

But, maybe sometimes Leonardo needed to be reminded.

April knew this feeling intimately and spoke to him—imagined how she would want someone to do this for her. "Leonardo. You are an amazing leader. Master Splinter knows this as your father. The other boys know this as your brother. And, I know this as your friend."

His head snapped back up to her, eyes widening in surprise and just a touch of vulnerability.

April stomped down the urge to reach out to him. "But, you know. There is only so much that a person can handle. Caring for people takes so much energy and strength. And, you don't have to do it alone."

"April," he breathed.

"I can be your eyes, Leonardo. You guys are confined under the city, but I can move freely. I can help keep your brothers safe—your _family_—safe." She didn't confine the urge this time, slowly reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. "You've done such a great job of keeping your family safe on your own. Imagine how great a protector you'd be if you had just a little bit of extra help?"

Leonardo was silent for a few long seconds, his eyes tracking over her face, looking for some kind of validation. Trying to determine if she really meant the words pouring from her. And, April did.

It scared the fuck out of her because she couldn't remember the last time she felt _anything_ like this. But, God help her, she meant every word.

"Let me help, Leonardo. Please. I know it's been such a short time, but your family means a lot to me. I'd love—I'd be honored if you'd let me help in what little way I can."

If Leonardo's eyes shone a little brighter as he smiled, they both deigned to ignore it. His shoulders finally relaxed, rolling a bit in his shell as he brought his free hand up to cover hers. "Leo."

Oh, shit she was going to cry. April took a very deep breath through her nose, smelling chocolate and finally feeling hungry. Smiling at him, she reached down for a square. "All right, Leo."

His smile nearly split his face, daunting in its naked appreciation. "Thank you, April."

"Like I said, it's an honor." Shifting, she pulled her cellphone out of her pocket. "Here, I'll give you my cellphone number. Do you guys have phones?"

"Uh, yeah. We have one cell I keep with me when we go out, and a landline back home."

"Good. Use my number. Text or call if you guys need anything and I'll contact you if there is something I need to warn you about." Pulling up her contacts, she quickly added one for the turtles. "Give me your numbers and I'll text you with mine."

Leo quickly rattled off the numbers, grinning as he reached into his turtle to pull out his ringing phone. He flipped it open, seeing April's text and saving it to his own contacts. "Hey, you'll be the first number in here that isn't pizza delivery."

April grinned. "I can do that, too."

Leonardo laughed.


	5. Balanced

**Balance**

Living was about finding balance.

Taking the good with the bad and absorbing just enough of each so that you didn't spiral into complete insanity.

It's what families are for. Friends.

Adults who can keep their heads out of their own asses long enough to take care of those who _shouldn't have to_ ask for help.

These rare, well-adjusted, people are rare. Like, unicorn-rare. As a person who lives to observe—takes things apart and figures the individual pieces—April feels like she would know. Everyone is just a little bit crazy. The kids at school were burgeoning psychopaths and sociopaths, eager to spend each day eating each other and walking away from the carcasses. These daily acts of physical and social violence were witnessed by teachers who turned a blind eye, focusing instead of their own problems and following the syllabus to. the. dot.

New York City is filled with the insane. It was impossible to turn on any television and not be faced with reports of crime. And, the offenders just kept getting younger and younger.

April wondered if her face would ever show up one night on the 7 o'clock news.

She felt crazy. She felt _enraged._

She felt forgotten.

Even now, following a winding path in Central Park, April could see the ripped envelope on her aunt's apartment floor. Her father must have had her on his PDA: _send child-support check to April once in a while. She is human and humans need to eat._

It was stupid of her to expect even a letter when she opened the envelope. It had been too thin, too light to be anything more than just a check.

The only personal touch the check offered was his fucking signature.

Her fucking father.

The amount didn't matter. And, April didn't expect much. Even a sticky-note with a "how are you" would have been enough. Isn't that what parents were supposed to do? Give a shit about their spawn?

Did he think that since she was sixteen, that as long as she wasn't pregnant she was hunky-dory?

And, she didn't even understand why it made her so mad.

Her mother had been dead for years: he hadn't cared for longer than that. Even though they were now the only family they had in the world, it didn't change anything.

This anger was irrational.

It made her insane.

_Unbalanced._

The letter had ruined her day. Dropping the check and envelope to the floor, she ground her shoe into the contents, smearing city-detriment on her father's after thought and left the apartment. Rage had filled her with restless energy, pushing her to walk in one direction and just kept on going.

Central Park was a good two miles from her aunt's apartment, and as the city's concrete and traffic was slowly covered by grass, trees, and shuffling squirrels, her energy began to wane. She had already been tired from a long day at school, and as her cadence slowed now, she felt a deep burn through the arches of her feet to her calves.

The burn made her feel a little better, and she took in a deep, cleansing breath before spotting a nearby park bench and taking a seat. Shedding her canvas utility jacket, she wadded it up on her lap and sat down, nearly folding herself in half as she brought her forehead down to rest on her knees.

This was so _exhausting_.

And, she just couldn't understand.

Why did her father piss her off so much? Why was he so indifferent towards her? Why did she have to be in New York City of all places?

Why did her mother have to die?

There were so many questions, and not enough answers. Only one person could really help her find some kind of explanation, but he was oceans away. A checkbook away.

A startled laugh was pulled from her lips as she found her thoughts turning back to the turtles. Balanced people were so rare, and it just figured that four mutant turtles would be the most balanced of anyone she could think of.

If one completely disregarded the fact that they lived underground and were—in fact—mutants, they lived the ideal American lives: they were a family that loved and supported each other and seemed to be genuinely kind in their views of the world. They were fifteen-years old, and possessed a respect for life that so many adults on the surface of the earth lacked.

April had always wondered how they could be so innocent and joyous after a lifetime of being raised in sewage. How were they not jaded? How did they not _hate _God for making them they way they were?

How was it fair, that the four kindest people she knew, had to live in the shadows and hide their goodness from the world?

These were questions that April could easily answer for herself. Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, and Michelangelo. The four of them had each other. They had a family that was whole and real. They had a father who gave a shit about them and sure, they lived underground, but they were _grateful_ for it because they had their clan.

April imagined that it was probably impossible to be sad if you had a family that would literally do anything for you.

What really surprised April—and broke her train of thought at random times throughout the day—was that she wasn't jealous of what they had. She would be the first to admit her horrible habit of hating people who had it better than her. People who had wonderful lives but still had something completely benign to gripe about.

April had expected to be consumed by jealousy as she faced the togetherness and joy the turtles had beyond her own world of loneliness and self-loathing. But, it was so hard to be anything but _happy_ for them.

And she was so fucking _grateful_ that their joy and camaraderie had expanded to include her.

It was still so surprising, the naked appreciation they had when she opened her bedroom to them. Ever since she started to fully grasp how much like teenagers they were, she had gone out of her way to get an account at the local video rental store, picking up DVDs and games by the bag. She bought a few extra pillows to give them places to rest and sit in her room. A full cabinet in her desk was emptied out and replaced with snacks she knew the boys liked.

She had the pizza delivery guy on speed dial.

They looked at her like she was a freaking saint for doing absolutely nothing and it scared April so much that she needed them to look at her like this.

Maybe they were why she was in New York.

And, maybe that would be enough for her to start to settle, she thought as the night air cooled against her exposed arms.

Kids at school be damned. City shit-heads be damned. Her father could be damned for all she cared.

She had four strange friends and they were enough to get her through the weeks.

Taking a deep breath, April felt her ire recede. There was still a small, burning ember in the pit of her stomach, reminding her of the abandoned check on the floor of her aunt's apartment. But, it was alright now.

It had to be.

More people started walking on the park path, most of them families enjoying the late afternoon after their early dinners. April wasn't hungry yet, but she figured that her walk back home would build up her appetite. Slipping her jacket back on, she began her trek back out of the park and into the city.

The walk back wasn't nearly as hectic, her mind no longer racing and exploding like too many accidental firecrackers in a rusted pail. No one made eye contact with her as office workers and college students made their way back home after a long day. It was fine with April.

In the city, people couldn't help but become invisible, and if there was a choice between invisibility and a repeat of her incident in the alleyway, she was ok with not existing for a little while.

Thirty minutes later, she closed the apartment door behind her and shed her coat. The floor had been cleaned, not a shred of mail in sight.

"April? Is that you, hon?" Her aunt's voice came from the kitchen, and April followed it, her jacket folded over her arm.

The small kitchen smelled of Chinese take-out, her aunt still in her scrubs as she unfolded grease-stained cartons and pour their contents into large bowls. Ted was in his oil stained jeans and t-shirt, offering her a welcoming nod as he continued shoveling fried-rice into his face. A small television was playing Jeopardy on the kitchen counter, filling the room with white noise.

Her aunt's smile was careful as she spotted April at the doorway. April didn't kid herself into thinking that her aunt wasn't aware of the envelope. She had never hidden her clear distaste for her father, and while she was fully aware that her aunt and father were siblings, she never could figure out if her aunt was on her father's side or hers.

April really didn't want to think about it.

"Hey, kiddo," she moved a bowl of orange chicken to the small dining table. "You hungry?"

"Not really," she shrugged.

"Oh, well, all I packed you for lunch was a peanut butter sandwich. Sure you don't want just a little bit?" she nodded towards the table. "I ordered extra since Ted is joining us."

A wave of disappointed "awws" flowed from the television as a contestant lost $1000 on a Daily Double.

April didn't want to do this tonight. Pretending that everything was all right was too exhausting to do on a nightly basis and she was already tired out from everything. She tried to look apologetic as she shook her head. "I think I'm just going to call it a night. I'll have the leftovers for breakfast tomorrow."

Her aunt couldn't hide her disappointment fast enough, just barely masking it with an understanding smile. "All right. But, I'll have an extra plate in the microwave if you change your mind."

"Sure," turning away, April headed back up to her bedroom, grabbing her backpack from where she had dropped it earlier and hooking it over her shoulder.

Once she shut her bedroom door behind her, she was finally able to relax completely, rolling her shoulders as she dragged her schoolwork to her desk. Homework was the last thing she wanted to do, but if she wanted to stay under the radar, they good grades were imperative.

A familiar knock brought a small smile to her face as she turned to find Donatello pushing her window open, still hanging off the sill. His smile was wide and genuine and so much better to look at than worksheets. "Good evening, April."

"Hey, Donnie," she moved away from her desk when he didn't make another move to come into her room. "What's up?"

Michelangelo's head popped down from above, excitement clear on his face. "Hey, dude! Wanna go out for some fun times?"

April's eyebrows rose in surprise, just barely hearing Raphael and Leonardo from beyond the window. "Hey, you are all here?"

Donnie knocked his free hand playfully on Mickey's head. "We are actually on our way to pick up some parts for the van. Figured you might want to come along?"

The entire day's stress and exhaustion was immediately dropped from her body, and April felt excitement at being out in the city with all four of the boys. "Are you kidding? Yes!"

Quickly dumping out her backpack and shoving in a notebook and her wallet, she locked her bedroom door and turned off the lights before pulling her jacket back on. "Where are we going?"

"There's a pretty awesome dump site a few miles from here," Donnie held out his hand, taking hers before pulling her onto the windowsill with him. "We've been pretty lucky at finding usable parts there." He guided her hand to his shoulders as he turned his back on her. "Just hang on here. We are going by roof top."

"Hope you aren't afraid of heights!" Mickey grinned at her before pulling himself back up to the roof.

April held on to Donnie's shoulder, her legs instinctively coming up and around the turtle shell. He effortlessly pulled them up after Michelangelo, and the world shifted suddenly as they almost flew upwards.

She had never felt safer in her life.

Once on the roof, April smiled back at Leo and Raph's welcoming nods.

"Not even a little."

[AN: I know this chapter was boring, but necessary. Things start picking up next chapter and there will be more Turtle brothers.

I have the next few chapter already outlined so expect an update later this week.

Thanks for the kudos :-)]


	6. Juvenile

Juvenile

It took a while for April to catch it.

The first few minutes were spent breathlessly undergoing the New York City Rooftop Experience, arms wrapped tightly around Donatello's solid shoulders. Around them, the other three were leaping on their own invisible paths from platform to platform, slicing through the air with ease. The cool air whipped at April's hair and clothes and she couldn't get over how much this felt like _flying._

One of Donnie's hands was hooked around her thigh, keeping her in place, and she had to fight down the urge to just throw her arms out and yell into the night.

Then, Michelangelo pulled a very irrational triple flip before launching himself skyward.

Raph seemed to take offence at it and pulled his own flip trick, dancing through the air in his own tightly controlled free-fall before leaping even further ahead.

Leo simply sped up, his feet barely touching the roofs beneath them.

April hid her laugh in the crook of her arm: they were _showing off._

Donatello landed on the roof of a café and launched him self a little bit further and higher than his brothers, just barely leading the way.

This was the best, most ridiculous thing to _ever _happen to her.

With the show and the admittedly breathless view of the city, April could feel her spirits raise to amazing heights. She was almost giddy with it, drunk on a happiness she couldn't ever remember feeling for years.

Traveling by rooftop was also very efficient, keeping them away from crowds and traffic. In less than twenty minutes, they were clear across the city and nearing an automobile junkyard. The land stretched out for miles, dotted through with dimly lit lamps, practically vacant save for a distant checkpoint clear across the lot.

April didn't think she could get any more excited about tonight, but as she saw the endless rows of abandoned cars, her heart seemed set on proving her wrong.

Leaping over the towering, chain-link fence was an easy task for the four brothers as they landed in a deserted row. Donatello was gentle as he bent down to help her reacquaint with solid ground, and she appreciated the thought, her body still feeling like it was jetting through the sky.

He grinned at her, a hand on her elbow. "You'll get used to it."

April really hoped she had more opportunities to do so. "Thanks. That was _amazing._"

"You think that's amazing?" Mickey chortled. "That was a piece-of-pie for us! I think the fastest we were able to get from one side of the city to another was like seven minutes flat!"

Leo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, in _your dreams_."

"Do you even know how many miles wide New York City is?" Donatello pointed at his brother. "It's at least twenty miles wide and even a cheetah couldn't run that in seven minutes."

"We totally aren't cheetahs, what does that have to do with the price of eggs in China?" Michelangelo quirked an eyebrow.

April chuckled as the turtles groaned into their hands, Raph taking the opportunity to knock a hand on the back of his brother's head. "Moron."

"Hey!" Mickey pouted.

Bending down to unzip her backpack and pull out her notebook, April figured she could explain. "Donatello was referencing Cheetahs because they are arguably the fastest land animal. They can run up to 70 miles per hour, which is unfortunately, faster than a turtle." She re-shouldered her bag. "And, New York City is a little over 13 miles long, so yeah. At best, a cheetah would be able to run that distance in about 12 to 14 minutes, and that's on flat ground without any obstacles."

All four turtles stared at her.

April shrugged at the attention. "I read a lot."

"Nerd." Raph rolled his eyes.

"Super nerd," Mickey agreed.

Ignoring them, she flipped her notebook open. The turtles weren't the only ones with skills to show off, and April felt that it would only help to keep them on their toes. Facts were fun. For the longest time, she had a vested interest in journalism and hoped that her application to the school paper would eventually go through.

She wasn't sure if it was something she wanted to do as a career, but it would give her a good excuse for her knack for fact absorption.

"So, we looking for van parts?" April directed her question towards Donatello.

Donnie nodded, pointing at the satchel hooked around his shoulder. His brothers all had similar bags. "Just small things for now, since I want your opinion before we get into the larger parts of the engine."

"All right," she nodded. "We'll start small then. You guys know what you are looking for?"

Donnie offered her a sheepish grin. "I thought we would follow your directions for this."

This was just fine with April. "All right. Without any idea on how the engine is now, I can't be to positive on what needs to be replaced, but I can bet that we'll need to replace some crucial parts, if not all of it."

She nodded at Donnie. "Gather some intake and exhaust valves, preferably a few of different sizes so that we can figure out the size the van requires."

"Right," he nodded, before leaping off.

To Leo, she waved him over to a nearby car, directing his attention to the gutted innards of a pick-up truck. "I need you to get anything that looks like this." Taking her fingers, she traced the rusted rings melded into the engine. "These are piston rings, and this part here is the piston. If you can find some of these that are all the same size and generally un-rusted, it would be perfect."

Leo brought his hand in beside hers, touching the parts she indicated. "Piston and piston rings. Got it."

As he turned away, she waved Raph over. "You can gather the connecting rod. As clean as you can find. And, just like with Donnie, I need you to grab a few different sizes so that I can find the right fit for the van."

"No problem," after taking one last look at the part she had indicated, he turned away to begin his search.

Michelangelo skipped up to her. "My turn, my turn! What vastly important part do you need me to gather for you, ma'am?"

April indicated the very base of the engine under her hands. "I need you to find one of these: the sump."

"Wah?" He frowned. "Is that even a real thing?"

"It's the base of the engine," she pointed towards the area caked with grime. "It's actually very important for an internal combustion engine. It serves as a reservoir of oil for the lubrication system. I need you to find me one that looks much cleaner than this." She stood back, watching as he leaned further into the engine to get a better look. "It's actually the hardest job, since finding one that isn't beyond repair is extremely difficult in an abandoned auto yard."

Michelangelo straightened and looked at her. "Is it the most important part?"

His insistence was ridiculous. And adorable. April nodded. "Very important."

"_Awesome_," he grinned. "Just leave it to me, dude."

She didn't bother hiding her smile as she watched the turtle turn on his heel, throwing an extra—and unnecessary flip—as he made his way to the other cars. Used to being seen as a tom-boy, April was used to her male peers ignoring her. Teenaged boys had a higher interest in girls who wore flirty dresses and batted their eyelashes at them.

April had little interest in either of those things (save for a few cute dresses she kept hidden in the back of her closet). To finally have the regard of four teenaged boys—despite their mutant status—felt very different.

She was still trying to figure out if it was a good different or just a different different.

Shaking the thoughts from her head, April began her own search for a useable crankshaft and any salvageable spark plugs. Anything remotely usable was thrown into her backpack, though she found herself helping the turtles more than her own task.

Mickey ran to her every three minutes, each time with a different sump in hand. His fingers and arms were caked in more and more filth as he approached her, seeming to enjoy the fact that he was covered in questionable muck. He didn't even really want to get her opinion on the parts: instead showing off his observational skills in contemplating just what the hell died in the abandoned reservoirs.

"Duuude. Someone was definitely _not _using regular oil in this car."

April was half-inside a wrecked Chevy. "What makes you say that?"

"Aren't you gonna see this? It's like they tried to bake a chocolate cake in here. Except instead of chocolate they used roofing tar and dog poop."

"What?" April's tone was more surprised at his chosen description than the apparently repulsive goop, pulling herself out of the Chevy just in time to see Michelangelo move the sump towards her. "What are you doing?"

His grin was clearly mischievous, even in the rapidly darkening sky. "What? I just want you to see this awesome-"

"You are such a liar, and if you get that crap on me, I will kill you," April's voice was tinged with hysteria and even she could hear the mirth under her words. She was having fun with a _juvenile_ joker.

"Aw, April. You know I would _never_." He leaped at her, giggling—_giggling_—as she quickly shoved herself away from him and ran away.

Michelangelo's laughter and footsteps chased her, and April wondered at the fact that this was the most amusement she had had in years. He could easily over take her, pin her down and pour the disgusting gunk all over her, but it was clearly all being done in fun: he was easily adjusting his stride and pace to give her the illusion of her own speed.

She took a turn at the end of a row of cars and spotted Raph as he straightened, adjusting his own bag around his shoulder. His attention immediately shifted to them, easily reading the situation and rolling his eyes.

For a second, April thought that he was going to scold his brother for acting like a child, thus ending the fun, but she was pleasantly surprised when he reached out for her with a smirk. It was simple enough to slip her arm within his reach and allow her momentum to swing her on his back before taking a leap up into the sky.

"Cheater!" Michelangelo laughed before following them up.

"Just evening the playing field!" Raph retorted, grinning back at her before giving his brother a real chase.

Mickey took the opportunity to drop the useless sump and started to really try catching them, hooting his laughter into the clear night.

And, once again, April was airborne, laughing into Raph's ear as they flipped, sliced, and danced through the air. Each touch on the ground was minimal, and she barely registered the shift from land to sky, amazed by their strength and grace. Only once, did a van they had landed on, shifted beneath them, but Raphael was able to easily adjust to the movement and keep them just out of Michelangelo's reach.

"Come on, Mickey," Raphael taunted. "Don't tell me that all of those pizzas are dragging down your agility. I'd be a shame if Master Splinter knew!"

"Oh no you didn't?!" Mickey's offended voice rose up to them. "Don't be shamin' my skills or my pizza!"

Raphael took another leap, and as he crested and began his descent, his grip slightly loosened on April, confusing her for just a moment, before she noticed Leonardo leap up towards them. His arms were held out, waiting for her, and it was surprisingly easy to trust him to take her hand as she reached out and shifted herself onto his back.

When the three of them landed, Leo commanded everyone's attention, immediately signaling them all to silence. And from one blink to another, Mickey and Raph were gone while Leo hid himself and April in an abandoned van.

Just as April opened her mouth to ask what the hell was going on, she saw the beam of a flashlight and the solid cadence of a security guard as he marched close by. Snapping her mouth shut, she pressed herself closer to Leonardo's side, feeling comforted by his arm around her shoulder.

He smiled assumingly at her. "No worries. We come here all the time, and the security guards aren't exactly the most dedicated to their job."

April hid her smile in the crook of his arm, basking in the thundering of her heart and the wind-swept feel of her hair.

Just as Leo had said, the guard was gone in just a few seconds, and they quietly climbed out of the car. Raph, Mickey, and Donnie were already out, not bothered at all by the interruption.

Mickey smiled at her. "How about 'turtle-go-seek?'"

April didn't get back home till dawn.

She didn't have any spark plugs or crankshafts, but that was all right.

She rocked at turtle-go-seek.

[AN: any accurate/inaccurate jargon about cars were pulled off the internet. The most I can do with a car is change oil and rotate tires.

Thanks for the likes and follows!]


	7. Wrecked

Wreck

When you are a passenger in a car, and your vehicle gets into an accident, it's jarring in that you are completely fine one moment, and inexplicably, the next moment, your world is a haze of shattered glass and twisted metal.

There's no transition between fine and _not fine_.

April felt like she was in a car on the cusp of being wrecked: for the first night in a while, she was able to fall asleep at a decent time, and her dreams weren't thinly veiled nightmares of angry boys in alleyways or her father's chains around her lungs. Her bed was warm and her blankets soft. The bedroom was just on the right side of cool and the city outside her window was a pleasant white noise.

Glass didn't shatter, but cracked under the sudden pressure of a large green hand, three fingers fumbling in panic against her unlocked window before throwing it open.

Three turtles tumbled into her bedroom in a heap just as April shot up in bed, heart in her throat and one arm reaching out for the baseball bat propped on her bedside-table.

It took her a full three seconds to realize that no, she wasn't being attacked; yes, she was awake; and, three ninja turtles were crouched on her bedroom floor in a bruised bleeding mess.

"Holy shit," she breathed, voice tinged with half-realized hysteria before throwing her covers off and crouching by them. Michelangelo was the closest, and he barely registered her hand on his shoulder as he breathed heavily on all fours, panting into her carpet. "Oh my God, what the fuck happened?!"

Raphael and Donatello weren't in any better shape, one favoring an arm while he glared at the ceiling with gritted teeth and the other clutching his midsection, eyes—heartbroken—focused on her.

"April—" Donatello's voice broke of in such overwhelming panic, and April knew that she never wanted to hear their voices break like that again. _Where the fuck was Leonardo? Where the fuck was he?_

Donnie steeled himself and tried again, voice still shaking uncontrollably. "April, they took Leo. _They took Leo._ Oh my God, they took him and—"

"Why the fuck are we even here?!" Raphael growled gripping his injured arm even more as he struggled to sit up. "We should be fuckin' out there _finding him_!"

Under her hand, April could hear and feel Michelangelo whimper and curl under the combined desolation and frustration of his brothers.

Forcing the sudden and deafening montage of _Leo's gone Leo's goneLeo'sgoneLeo'sgone_ to the back of her mind, April struggled to gain some control of the situation. They were getting loud and lost in their grief and her aunt was actually home tonight.

"_Oh my God, shut up._" She snapped, sounding angrier than she actually felt, but it got the attention of all three turtles. Standing, she hurried to her desk and pulled a meager first-aid kit out of her bottom drawer along with a half-used bottle of peroxide. "My aunt is here, and we will be in _huge_ trouble if she finds you guys here." Hurrying back to Michelangelo, she firmly—gently—guided him to sit up, eyeing the shallow cut over his eye that was bleeding all down his cheeks, chin, and neck. Propping open her supplies, she got to work patching him up. "Now, tell me what happened?"

"Shit, April, _we don't have time_—" Raphael pleaded beneath his anger.

"Yes you do," she snapped back. "I don't need to know _everything_. Just give me enough to know what happened to Leo while I patch you guys up."

Raph's glare intensified, sneering at her before reaching into the first-aid kit himself.

Donatello seemed to see what she was trying to do, and forced himself to calm down, visibly struggling to pull himself together. "We—we were ambushed. Every night, we just go out to patrol. Tonight, the four of us were out and we t-thought that we heard a fight, something about stolen goods and, we went to investigate." Taking a deep breath, he paused. "We have—there are some things we haven't told you yet, April. About us and our enemies."

April fixed Michelangelo's superficial wounds absently, listening intently to Donnie. Most the wounds that look bad were deep bruises, and she quickly cleaned them before applying her large supply of icy-hot patches to the darkened skin. "I don't need to know that now. Just what happened tonight." She glanced at him, as she finished with Michelangelo and moved on to Raph. "Did someone take Leonardo?"

Raph flinched away from April as she reached out to help him, forcing her to glare at the stubborn turtle. "Your arm is dislocated, stop _fucking _fidgeting."

"_I fucking know_," he growled back, leaning away from her before propping his arm straight on the floor. April watched him lean into it, and just barely realized that he was planning on resetting his arm _himself_ before she heard the sickening pop of his shoulder realigning with his arm.

Not retching at the sound was a struggle, but April swallowed it back before rolling Raph back and beginning the task of wrapping his shoulder and upper arm tightly. By this time, Raphael was breathing heavily, no doubt silently suffering through his self-inflicted pain.

"The Foot Clan." Donatello finally breathed. "They are our enemy, have been for a long time. They have an interest in us and we've been able to evade them so far, but tonight they took Leo and we don't know what they are going to do with him—"

"The Foot Clan?" April asked, looking up in the middle of her task. Sweat made itchy tracks down the back of her neck and into the back of her camisole. The name was horribly familiar, whispered in the darker corners of her school between students who feared the underground gang and those who claimed to be a part of it. She tried to remember everything she had heard about them.

When she had first moved to New York and heard someone mention the Clan, April had dismissed it as rumor. A stupid rumor. Clans in New York City? Clans that consisted of reckless teenagers and punks?

It was the stuff of comic books, not reality.

But, of course, she lived in a world with mutant turtles. So maybe there was some truth in what she had heard . . .

"I heard about them in school. Isn't it a gang of kids?"

"Kids are only part of it," Donnie explained. "It's a network of juvenile delinquents and criminals who take part in all kinds of criminal activity. Any thing from as petty as pick pocketing to robberies and murder. Their leader, Shredder, he's our real enemy—the one who wants to kill us and Master Splinter."

"Him and Master Splinter have a history," Michelangelo finally offered, sitting up and working on his aching limbs. Some of the desperation was slowly leaving his eyes, replaced with the need to go back out there and save his brother. "For years, Master Splinter has been trying to protect us from him."

April couldn't imagine, trying to function without their leader, their big brother, there to guide them.

"Why would this guy, Shredder, want you?"

"We don't know, and it doesn't matter," Raphael insisted, moving away once she tied off his bandage. April turned away from him and began patching Donatello up. "We just need to get him back. As soon as possible. _Now._"

April grabbed her nearly empty bottle of peroxide. "Do you know where to start looking?"

"They have bases all over the city, and we barely know a fraction of them," Michelangelo stated. "All we know is that they took Leo north towards the Bronx."

Which was helpful information, but unfortunate. The Bronx was nearly 42 square miles of buildings and underground networks: finding a specific Foot Clan base or Leo was going to be nearly impossible.

April used the repetitive motion of swiping scrapes with peroxide, wiping skin clean, and adhering band-aids to help her focus. Her school hosted some kids from the Bronx. Students from that borough tended to flock together during and after school. April was invisible enough that she had been the unwitting witness to various benign conversations. Could she remember anything that was said about the Foot Clan in the Bronx?

She was irritated with herself for dismissing the gossip so readily.

"We patrol the Bronx pretty regularly," Mickey said out loud, picking at a bandage on his cheek. "But, I can't think of any Foot Clan hang-outs that stick out to me, guys."

Donatello shifted under her hands. "We could focus on where we have seen the highest concentration of Foot Clan activity. Chances are that a base would be close by."

"Then, _let's get going_," Raphael insisted, rising to his feet and starting to pace on the floor. "We are wasting time, just sitting here."

"I know you are worried, Raph. We all are!" Donnie looked up at his brother. "But, we can't just run aimlessly to pick a fight with any Foot Clan soldiers we come across. There are _hundreds _of them and three of us."

"_I don't care_," Raphael growled, embracing his rage. April couldn't help but look at him and wonder _why_ he was being so irrational. _Why was he acting like this_? She knew that of the four brothers, Raphael had the shortest and hottest temper, but he was usually rational about keeping that rage in check when necessary.

Donatello stood, brushing April away as she tried cleaning a shallow wound on his leg. She didn't take any offence, knowing that he was completely focused on his brother.

"Raph. We won't be of any use to Leo if we just get caught ourselves. We need a plan!"

"Then _plan!_ Tell us what to do!"

"I'll try if you'll just stop yelling!"

April flinched at their raised voices, sharing a look with Michelangelo who was helplessly looking between his two brothers.

Shaking her head at the devolving conversation, she turned to her desk and flipped open her geography textbook. Smears of dark, drying blood stained the white pages as she flipped through, but she couldn't register seeing them as she searched for a map of New York City. The best she could find was a demographic map of the different boroughs, each county filled with clusters of red, green, and blue. Her eyes scanned the different names and neighborhoods, hoping that something would ring a bell in her memory.

The Bronx was a high crime area: it made sense that it would contain the highest concentration of Foot Clan members. Chances were that you couldn't throw a rock without hitting a Clan member if what the brothers told her was true.

Her eyes fell upon Tremont and stopped. Tremont kids didn't go to her school, but she heard enough gossip about the area to know that the neighborhood was bad news.

_Tremont was dangerous a night._

_Don't show your shit around Tremont if you didn't want to get it stolen._

_Travel in packs in Tremont if you know what's good for you._

They_ rule Tremont with an iron fist._

_Did you see them at the abandoned bowling alley? I have to take the long way to the bus stop now, guys._

"I know a place we can start." April interrupted them. Back to the room, she emptied out her backpack and began throwing the last of her first-aid supplies, flashlight, partially-charged phone, and baseball bat into it. She was painfully aware of the sudden silence behind her. "They talk about the Tremont neighborhood at school. It's in West Bronx."

"We hit that place a lot," Mickey whispered into the heavy air. "Lots of robberies and stuff."

"April—" Donnie started.

Zipping her backpack up, April slipped it onto her shoulders. At the last minute, she ripped a piece of paper out of her notebook and scribbled a quick note for her aunt. Leaving it on top of her laptop, she turned around. Three pairs of eyes stared at her with varying degrees of worry and resignation. She steeled her spine and voice. "Shut up. Leonardo needs to be saved and I'm going to help you, because if I don't, then there will be nothing but this bull-shit fighting you've all been partaking in since you crashed into my room."

She could feel Raphael's regard like ice on her skin.

"It's a long shot, but here's the plan." Reaching over, she pulled a hoodie over her camisole and sweats and laced up her converses. "I know of a possible base. Kids at school talked about an abandoned bowling alley in Tremont."

Donnie's eyes widened. "We know that place."

"We go there. Chances are highly likely that the Clan is expecting you to show up, but we need to do what we can to sneak into the building quietly. If things do get hot, then fight. Keep their attention on you."

Raphael raised his chin, his eyes brightening in understanding. "They'll be expecting us. But not you."

April nodded, "Not me."

Donatello and Michelangelo looked torn, not liking the idea of dragging her in, but realizing the necessity of her help. She turned to them. "I'm a shit fighting partner, but I can get around places unseen. I'll sneak in and look for Leonardo. Donnie, do you have the phone?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"I'll text you an 'x' if I find him. An 'f' if he's not there. If he isn't there, then you guys can try getting information from the Clan members you are beating the shit out of."

The three brothers shared a look when she stopped talking, some kind of silent conversation going on between them, but April honestly didn't care. She kept reliving the night Leo came to visit her, unloading his worries on her about how he needed to protect his brothers: how he needed to keep them safe.

April remembered her promise to help him do that.

Acidic doubt ate at the base of her brain. Was she just taking the three brothers to their death? She wanted to protect them all, but she was just a human girl. A _nobody_.

And she was in the middle of a world where there were mutant turtles and fucking clans in New York City.

What could she really do?

But, April knew, deep in her heart, that if she didn't go, the three boys before her would go out into the night alone, ripping New York City apart until they found their brother.

Or until they died.

She couldn't let that happen.

The sudden silence in her room was broken by the steady approach of footsteps, her aunt's voice finding them. "April? Are you all right in there? What are you doing?"

April's heart didn't jump. Guilt didn't fill her brain. Her lack of fear or remorse was frightening.

Her bedroom door was locked, but the handle started jiggling. "April? Open this door, do you have people in there?! April!"

"Let's go," April whispered.

Raphael reached for her, swinging her on his back before heading out the window. This time, the glass shattered, raining on her floor as Raph launched them skyward, Donnie and Michelangelo close behind.

Her aunt's voice chased them into the night. "APRIL!"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It was pure luck.

Dumb _fucking_ luck.

Maybe some higher power had decided that the turtles deserved something right after their lives of hiding in the darkness and isolation.

April didn't believe in God, but if he was real, then she would have thanked him. Because this could have turned out worse.

So much worse.

April's knee ached from where a Clan solder—a boy maybe a year younger than her—had managed to catch her with the end of a lead pipe. Luckily, he had been alone, and she was a better aim with her bat, knocking him out with a solid blow to his temple.

It was easy to forget about the ache now as she kneeled in front of an unconscious Leo, thick handcuffs restraining him to a block of concrete and weird tubes pierced under his skin. The tubes led into a churning machine, feeding the unconscious turtle a sedative while draining him of blood.

For the first time that night, April's hand shook, painful relief filling her limbs as she shut the machine off and began to carefully extract the tubes and needles from her friend. Carefully tying gauze around the puncture wounds to minimize blood loss, April pulled out her phone, ignoring the frantic texts from her aunt and sending an "X" to Donnie before shoving it into her pocket.

Leonardo's skin was cold and clammy as she cupped his face, lifting his chin. "Leonardo. Leo, wake up."

He didn't move, but April took comfort in the fact that he was breathing before gently letting his head down and focusing on the cuffs. A quick glance around didn't reveal a key. Luckily, the chains connecting the thick cuffs weren't heavy-duty, so it was a simple task to find a crow bar and break the links.

The room was completely quiet save for the whir of the machine beside them, doing something to Leonardo's blood. Beyond the walls, April could hear the fighting, steadily coming closer. She imagined that the turtles were fighting harder than ever, invigorated to know that their brother was just moments from rescue.

Moments away from being reunited.

Leonardo looked small in the dim lighting, hunched over and unconscious: his dark skin littered with bruises from angry blows and invasive needles.

Just seeing them enraged her.

Who the fuck were these people? Who the fuck was Shredder and why did he want the turtles?

What the fuck gave him the _right_?

And, it was so easy for April to take that anger and raise the crowbar, bringing it down over and over and overoverover into the machine that whirred, sputtered, sparked, then died as she dented, then cracked, then, shattered the exterior.

Prying the plastic and metal away, she hacked at the maze of wires, tubes, and wheels, reveling in the destruction as she pulled the crowbar back and stabbed it into the machine's innards.

Sparks flew past her skin, metal parts scattering around her while Leonardo's blood leaked and poured onto the dirty, grated floor of the pinsetter deck.

April's muscles throbbed as she dropped the crowbar and fell back to her knees beside Leonardo. His breathing was still deep, and she took a moment to drop her head to his chest, finding comfort in his beating heart while her abused muscles twitched and ached under her skin.

"LEO!" Raph yelled into the air, getting closer by the second.

Her next breath was a sob as she felt Leonardo shift under her cheek. April leaned back just as the turtle's eyes cracked open, his eyes half-lidded and confused before looking at her. His large, kind eyes, blinked rapidly, trying to clear the confusion. "A-April?"

"Yeah," she managed to smile, hearing a door slam open.

Raphael didn't wait for April to move out of the way, falling to his knees beside his brother and laughing his relief into their space. His hands came up to grasp at Leonardo's shoulders, needing the proof that his brother was really here. "Leo!"

Michelangelo and Donatello were seconds behind, and April moved out of the way to give all three brothers room to hover and touch their leader, comforting each other and reveling in the fact that they were all alive.

April watched them, unaware of when she started crying, but a quick scrub of her dirtied sleeve over her cheeks and nose wiped the evidence away. Even under the dull lighting, she could see that the other turtles were no worse for wear after her quick patch-job earlier.

"Man, bro, are you all right?" Michelangelo couldn't seem to stop hugging Leo's arm. "We are so glad we found you!"

Donatello was in tears, his fingers gripped in Leonardo's shell, just laughing in relief.

Raphael looked just a broken—just as relieved—as he knocked foreheads with their recovered brother. "You're back. You're back. I'm sorry, man. I'm so sorry."

Leonardo took the coddling well, taking the time to assure his brothers that he was all right before falling back unconscious.

The thing about car wrecks is that they happen in an instant. It feels like the world is ending, but it doesn't—_unless it does_. And, if you find yourself waking up, you realize that you are alive and keep on going. Despite any loss.

Because of the loss.

Wrecks never last forever.

They just feel like they will.

AN: I am shit at writing action scenes, which is why I completely skipped over it.

Hopefully, it didn't detract from the chapter.

This was a lot of fun to write and I hope you all enjoy :-) Let me know what you think!


End file.
